


God Knows I Could Make Amends

by upottery



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Hero Worship, M/M, Religious Imagery & Symbolism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-22
Updated: 2013-02-22
Packaged: 2017-12-03 04:48:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/694342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/upottery/pseuds/upottery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Roe lays his hands on Babe it feels divine, like the clouds of heaven misting over a battlefield.</p>
            </blockquote>





	God Knows I Could Make Amends

**Author's Note:**

> another babe/roe request over at my [tumblr](http://passtheammunition.tumblr.com)! hope you like this one, emily!

When Roe lays his hands on Babe it feels divine, like the clouds of heaven misting over a battlefield, the soldiers taking pause and knowing that there was something beyond waiting for them. It is war and peace, and heaven is a possession in the grips of every man, cradled closer than a familiar photo, more certain and tangible than ever going back home. In all instants he knows Roe is an enigma, nothing less but also more than a man, descended from a place near God and yet, humble and soft, brilliant and undaunted. The humility of Jesus and the concealed strength of David, bogged down in the marshes and undiscovered on the porches of Louisiana.

He is unlived, a simple man used to cobbled streets and no troubles beyond the choice of a ten cent milkshake, a name borrowed from tarnished fame, crooning in a grating voice, laughing like a coyote howls. He had been lost for a long time, a lifer in complacency, and now found in a white forest, breathing and feeling in his lungs what he can’t feel in his fingers. Now, there is conflict and the blood of knights strewn through the kingdom, and he used to spend time kneeling at their pyres asking why until Roe laid his palms down and told him. 

Since, Babe hasn’t questioned and hasn’t wondered about living or dying, and yes, he is still afraid, unwaveringly petrified of the front that looms like a stocky German, friends falling and bloodied, but there is a heaven. There’s somewhere that Roe talks about, where it’s always warm and the company you keep is kindred, and roses bloom without thorns, and crawfish is served for dinner every night. It’s almost enough to get him to sleep, but he never drifts off until a hand rests on his forearm, never gloved and unceasingly deific, a cold palm and a phrase that’s never uttered but said anyway. 

And now he is wide-eyed, shaking Roe who has blue lips and frozen eyelashes, desperate and pleading breathlessly, saying “Gene, Gene, you’ve gotta get up.”

Roe does after a few minutes; smacking his mouth and looking nothing like the portraits of his holy brothers, and Babe knows now that war is forceful and sickened, sprouting only from the selfish needs of men who will never see this face, never know of this man who held together so many with so little, who will do nothing for the benefit of himself to the point where his divinity is drained through the blood leaving his face. 

Then he says, “Babe? Edward, what happened?”

And Babe clings to Roe, dirtied fingernails grasping his medic’s armband like it’s a sigil to call him back to heaven, and swears to God he won’t let go. It’s not entirely selfish.


End file.
